


A Reason To Leave

by andrea_deer



Series: 200 Prompts Challenge [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Season/Series 03, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrea_deer/pseuds/andrea_deer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock came back it was a relief in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reason To Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the prompt: 
> 
> **Say I never mattered** – Mycroft/Lestrade, _Unhappy Lestrade looks for a reason to leave_

The fights with Kim never had a clear beginning, but they usually had a quite an obvious ending – one of them finally slammed the door and didn’t come back until they calmed down. One afternoon, after another loud, ugly fight, Kim left again, but this time hadn’t come back until a week later and with her vicious sister in tow, who barely managed to stop herself from spilling all the _‘I told you so’_ s that Greg could clearly see in her disapproving looks. He talked with Kim about selling the flat and sharing the costs, how to part their belongings, who owns the TV set and who does the motorbike. They ended up yelling even more, but not about the inevitable end of it all. They negotiated a truce, sorted out their belongings and parted their ways, glad they at least never bothered with marriage in the first place. 

With Vin the beginnings of the fights were easier to trace, but the results harder to predict, if he was completely honest. They ended up slamming the doors, they ended up braking some dishes, they ended up shagging on the couch. But they all had their roots in one problem – he was never there. He was late again or missed a meeting completely, stuck in the office once again. He backed out of spending holidays with her family to keep an eye on detoxing Sherlock. He talked about nothing but work all the time and brutal murders, no matter how vexing, were not the perfect dinner conversation. Later the subjects of fights had changed or at least multiplied, mostly with what Sherlock deduced about Vin. For a man who couldn’t be bothered to figure out Greg’s name, he sure was quick to tell him about his wife’s cheating.

When Lestrade came back from the Christmas’ party at Baker Street, walking for most of the way to clear his mind, Vin packed most of her things and they discussed the rest, starting the slow process of untangling their lives once again, filing for the divorce and negotiating mortgage. At least, thought Greg bitterly, this time there was no bike to lose.  
To say that Mycroft Holmes was different would be an understatement of the century. Greg wasn’t sure if he was even capable of raising his voice, not to mention having a loud row. Sometimes it was even hard to notice they were arguing. Greg occasionally had an epiphany several days later, realizing that Mycroft’s latest biting comments and bouts of silence were in fact more than busy days at work and dramatic sulking, he’d forever deny. 

Greg himself rarely could shout, because Mycroft knew what he was shouting about before Greg did and either apologized or explained the pointlessness of the argument. Greg’s fights could get messy, with old hurts being brought up and hurtful words yelled out with less meaning that actual intention to hurt. They were complicated, not easy to unravel, always about ten things at the same time, half of them never voiced, but they helped out clear the air and let some steam out. Mycroft considered them a waste of time, since he already knew it all. Always few steps ahead of Greg, leaving him behind, confused and unsure of what’s going on with his life.

When Sherlock came back it was a relief in more ways than one.

Mycroft met Gregory in his study and watched him closely for a moment in the dimmed light. He nodded slightly and sipped his scotch.

“I believe you found your reason for the final decision,” he said calmly, his voice just slightly tilting with the knowing, mocking smile.

‘ _Oh, yes, I quite expected you to leave, I’m glad you finally arrived at the same conclusion.’_ Greg wanted to deck him, but feared it wouldn’t get any reaction either and that might’ve just broke him to just a touch too small pieces.

“Go to hell, Mycroft,” he growled instead and left the place without a second glance, only now realizing he never even took his coat off as he walked in.

He slowly made his way to his own flat, enjoying the fresh, still cold spring air and trying to lose his thoughts in the rhythm of his steps.

Everything he ever left at Mycroft’s was already packed and waiting for him in the living room. He felt like smashing it as well, but it seemed just as pointless.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a sequel, which is not even slightly less angsty, but is from Mycroft's perspective. [Congratulations To The Dry Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2552408)


End file.
